Stand Fast

Last night at Café Adriatico, Adrian told us where he was before the AFP withdrew its support from Erap in favor of the people. He told us where he was stationed that week, his M-16 and 203 at the ready, from the first night up to the morning when Chief Justice Davide (damn, His Honor is THE MAN!) swore GMA into office.

I don’t know if I have what it takes to be Adrian. Dressed to kill (literally, what with all the weapons strapped to him) and faced with the possibility of shooting unarmed civilians, some of them his own people, yet he stands by the principles he’s committed himself to.

Right or wrong, the guy has brass cojones.

– Laren’s journal, nearly a year and a half after the events in January 2001

It’s not a riot, it’s a belated New Year’s Eve street party, Adrian mused, rubbing the sweat from his brow. Angry people from all walks of life, all gathered together in protest… and the only thing they can do is make a hell of a noise.

He grunted, shaking his head over the horns from outside Camp Aguinaldo, the strident rhythm unquestionably “E-RAP RE-SIGN!” He tried to focus on the reports of DZMM, to where the radio of the large Army 6-by was tuned. He and his people were on red alert, but it seemed that the brass had no handle over the situation. In the meantime, the crowd milling about the EDSA shine continued to demand justice at the top of their lungs, from time to time interrupted by a song number by some flake wanting the publicity, he thought wryly.

He shifted his weight on the wooden bench, easing the weight of the death-dealing accoutrements on his battle-dress uniform, leaning on the muzzle of his M-16 assault rifle. He wiped the sweat off his brow again, and swore to himself. Shit, certified combat pilot, down on the ground and a foot soldier. I should be flying one of the MGs instead of sitting in this truck, not knowing what the orders are, not knowing what to tell my men.

He stiffened. Lieutenant Adrian Salve, he chided himself, do not forget the second rule of command: orders are obeyed, not questioned. You expect this of your men – do not do otherwise to your superior officer. You were ordered to Aguinaldo in BDUs, and this is how it is.

His ears pricked up. Live on DZMM a reporter was introducing his next interviewee, “Ano ho ang pangalan nila?”

“Allen Yamson ho.” The smooth voice was unmistakable. Allen, what the hell? A TOSStado is there in the rally!

“Ano ho ang pakay nila dito ngayon sa EDSA?”

“Ah, heh-heh.” The embarrassed chuckle before the serious remark, so typical of the ex-seminarian. “Wala nang karapatan mamuno si Erap ‘tsaka yung mga kasama niyang trapo. Ginagamit yung position nila para sa sarili nila, di para sa ikabubuti ng taong-bayang namumuti na ang mata sa kahirapan… mga tulad namin, heh-heh.”

“Ah, heh-heh,” the radio reporter was inclined to be skeptical. “At saan ho sila galing?”

“Baguio ho.”

“Galing pa ho sila ng Baguio?” Adrian wasn’t amused by the reporter’s astonishment. Allen, ‘tang-ina! Don’t you know that you could get caught in a crossfire?

“Nag-aaply kami sa isang placement agency diyan sa Caloocan. Kumakain kami kagabi noong napanood namin yung ginawa ng mga senador sa impeachment.” Adrian could detect the anger in Allen’s voice, calm though his words were delivered. “Dalawang gabi na ho kami rito.”

“Saan ho sila tumutuloy?”

“Dito ho, sa jeep ng kasama namin.”

“Paano ho sila kumakain?”

“Minsan, sa Megamall, minsan nakakakuha ng mga iniitsa ng mga taong nasa flyover.”

At this exchange Adrian was thunderstruck. Shit, Allen and his buddies, guys still fighting to find decent jobs, sleeping in a jeepney just to be here… and they get to eat okay too – because people are sharing what they have with whoever needs some! No small admiration flooded Adrian’s consciousness when he remembered, and most of them students, office workers, ordinary folk, damn near broke and hungry after paying the bills… some of them not even enjoying payday yet!

“ ‘Di ba sila natatakot na baka dumating ang militar?”

“Darating ba? Heh-heh... ‘Di naman siguro… pero ‘di naman kami takot,” Allen replied honestly, “konti lang.”

“Salve!” The imperious voice of his superior officer jolted Adrian from his concentration. He got off the truck and saluted smartly, masking his unease. “Sir!”

The gesture was returned. Neither found it strange that they were standing on ceremony, what with their frazzled nerves. “Get your men to barracks, we’re not going anywhere tonight,” Major Gonzales ordered. A heavyset man who normally exuded confidence and strength, the major now seemed overwhelmed by events. His voice turned brusquely familiar. “Adrian, go to your quarters and get some rest. God knows we’ll all need some.”


In the bachelor officers’ quarters, the TV was tuned to ABS-CBN, but the officers were either asleep or pretending to be. Adrian was slumped on the couch, eyes closed, as did two brother officers, all of them feeling the strain caused by the indecision of those commanding them. His eyes flashed open when he heard Alex Alikpala cover live the Ballet Philippines danseuses performing an interpretative number atop the EDSA shrine.

“Adrian!” His mistah Jayjay, seated beside him, nudged him and asked urgently, “Isn’t that Raven? Your friend from high school?”

Adrian’s stomach lurched. It was Raven dancing the lead. He and she were friends even before high school – growing up in the same neighborhood, they were like brother and sister. “Yes, Jayjay, that’s her.”

“Putang-ina, if we’re going in…”

“Don’t anticipate, Jayjay.” Adrian cut him off firmly. “We wait for orders.”

“And Raven?” “We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.” Please, God, don’t let there be a Rubicon. “Change the channel to CNN or BBC. Shit, news here is just broadcasting tabloid trash.”


There was no rest for them, but being the soldiers they were, they were conditioned to bear it. Nerves weren’t frayed, discipline was still maintained, but the officers knew that each man was hesitant. Nobody wants to fire at an unarmed crowd; but if we’re fired upon by some leftist with a paltik or a sumpak, it’s going to be bloody.

Adrian shrugged off the thought as he went to the BOQ to take a piss. It’s just lack of sleep, he thought, and was not amused by the BBC clip of Martin Nievera singing to the crowd. BBC news suddenly turned to a live interview.

“We’re with one of the protesters here on Epifanio delos Santos Avenue, in Mandaluyong City, Philippines, Laren Alvarez, a teacher of maths at Adamson University. Mr. Alvarez, why did you join the demonstration?”

He was still a slight man, Adrian saw, but his steely eyes bore into the reporter. Behind him were Eric, James, and a few others, still dressed in office clothes. ‘Tang-ina, I should’ve known you guys wouldn’t have missed this.

“We wouldn’t have missed this,” Laren replied politely, “it’s our people’s expression of righteous indignation.”

“Hasn’t it become quite festive of late?” countered the reporter, her voice patronizing. Adrian knew that Laren noticed the condescension, but his friend laughed it off instead. Laren replied, “The brave Katipuneros of our 1898 were said to have kept their rondalla instruments with their rifles. A tasseled guitar was supposedly found after del Pilar’s heroic stand at Tirad Pass. Here, truth and justice are our weapons, but music has always been our shield against fear.”

The reporter, jaded as she was, was so obviously flabbergasted, impressed. Adrian managed a grin and thought, Shit, man, you’ve always had a way with words. The reporter recovered, tossed her blonde hair confidently, and said, “What can you say about reports of troops and attack helicopters in the area?”

Laren sobered. His next words sent a chill down Adrian’s spine. “I have a good friend in the Air Force, and I’m sure he’s out there. If he was listening, I’d let him know that I haven’t forgotten what he once said when he was just a plebe in the PMA.”

“And that was?”

“He’d fire into a crowd that contained his family and friends if he was ordered to, but he would pull the trigger with his eyes closed. He’d be serving our country in the way he believes is right and in the best way he can, the same way I believe that being here is fighting for the right thing our country in the only way we can. I only hope that we aren’t on opposite sides.”

The interview ended abruptly, the reporter wrapping it up and the anchorman returning. Feeling a presence behind him, Adrian turned to see Major Gonzales watching him intently from the doorway. He came to attention. “Sir!”

“At ease, Salve,” the major said, walking into the room. “Friend of yours, Adrian?”

“Yes, sir,” Adrian replied calmly, though his stomach was in knots. The TOSStados, Raven, and God knows who else is out there. Yes, Major, I’ve got people out there.

“I have people out there too, Adrian,” Major Gonzales said gruffly, as if he read his mind, and Adrian’s eyes flashed to him in surprise. “Sir?”

“Yes. I’m very sure my niece is out there with her officemates. My sister called to say that she hasn’t gone home and can’t be reached by cellphone,” the major said. He nodded, turned to leave, then paused. “I don’t have to tell you why we are here, Lieutenant. Make no mistake, we will do our duty.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Yes, Salve?”

“How?”

“God only knows. But when the orders come, we follow them. Are we clear on that?”

Both men knew that they were faced with the unthinkable, and that they were committed. Knowing this, Adrian steeled his resolve, and replied, “Yes, sir.”

He made ready to join his men.

Have you courage? Have you staunch hearts? Having a heart means knowing fear but compelling it to one’s own ends; seeing the abyss but looking with pride.

– Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra